


Chasing Legends

by Scottishwaitress



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Isolationist batfamily, Justice league meets the batfamily, Protective daddy!bats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scottishwaitress/pseuds/Scottishwaitress
Summary: No one goes to Gotham, and no one ever leaves. What if Batman hadn’t been so trusting? What if he’d been content to stay in the shadows and watch from afar? A.K.A my self indulgent isolationist batfam au no one asked for. I was gonna write a one shot about them being creepy, but it turned into investigative journalist Clark REAL quick, sorry if any of the JL are ooc I’ve really only read batfam stuff and a bit of Superman. This is my first fic so don’t judge me too harshly.





	1. Chapter 1

Clark shivered, he didn’t like Gotham. No one likes Gotham sure, but Clark was especially averse to the cold city where the sun never rose. He’d grown up on a farm, under a clear blue sky with the wind in his hair and clean air in his lungs. It was in his nature to be unsettled by this place. He felt the smog move through him as Barry raced past. Clark shook his head. He didn't have time for this. The creature had already gotten past the bridge into the city. He took a deep breath and lurched into action. The lizard-like creature, the Gorlan as Arthur has called it, was nearly thirty feet long with gills stretching along it’s sides and was screeching in obvious pain.

In his plan to conquer the world, a new villain calling himself “The Zookeeper” had released a menagerie of some of the strangest animals Clark had ever seen. Clark had defeated the wannabe overlord easily enough, but he’d required several of his teammates’ help to take care of his pets. Most of the fights had taken place in his teammate’s respective cities, but the Gorlan moved so quickly that only a couple of the fliers and the Flash had managed to keep up with it on it’s tirade toward Gotham. Clark and Diana tried to force the creature into the net construct that John had created. Arthur had been adamant that it remain unharmed. Clark watched as it crashed into the street that, luckily, Barry had managed to clear moments before. As the poor thing struggled for breath John and Hal gathered it in a construct and headed out to sea to meet Arthur. Clark sighed with pity and landed next to Diana as the first of the police cars gathered next to the gouge where the lizard had fallen. Clark looked around with a smile on his face expecting to see the admiring crowds he’d grown accustomed to. Instead he found shadowy figures gathered in the doorways and windows of the road, whispering angrily. Those faces that he could see wore apathetic glares. He frowned as the fight’s adrenaline rushed away.  
“That’s Gotham for ya,” the officer near him said with a bitter chuckle, “People like us do our damn job and people thank some urban legend.”  
The man was cut short by the sound of footsteps behind them. Clark whipped around to see a commanding man, around 50, with a graying mustache and a beige trench coat.  
“I’m Police Commissioner Gordon,”  
Clark was taken aback by the man’s bluntness, most people at least pretended to be intimidated by him.  
“Yes, yes sir, I’m Su-  
Gordon interrupts him with an incredulous expression “Yes son, I know who you are,” he said with a genuine, if a bit mocking, smile “What happened here?”  
That’s a feat in and of itself. Clark thinks, as he feels his face heat up, a smile from a Gothamite.  
He explained the day’s events as quickly as he can. He couldn't wait to get out of this place, everywhere he goes in this god-forsaken city, as both Clark Kent and Superman, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s being watched.  
He was getting ready to take off when he heard Arthur’s muffled voice in his ear.  
“WHAT THE HELL CLARK?”  
Confused he turned up his comm, “Aquaman? What is it? Is something wrong?”  
“You were in charge of this op, do you want to be the one to tell me why there’s a bullet in Kelsig’s spine?”  
Even more confused, Clark took off toward Metropolis “Who the hell is Kelsig?”  
“THE GORLAN CLARK”  
Clark stopped his flight abruptly “A what?”  
“A bullet, Clark, right in her back, damn lucky shot too,”  
He was sure there hadn’t been anyone firing at the scene, there weren’t even any members of the league who used guns, much less anyone who could’ve gotten to Gotham in time. He arrived at the coast nearest to Arthur sure that he must’ve made some mistake. But then, how do you mistake a bullet in the back of a massive sea creature. He thought back to the creature, Kelsig’s fall, he’d assumed that Diana had pulled the creature down somehow, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Arthur threw him a rebreather bitterly. He didn’t really need it, he could survive the swim just fine, but it would certainly be more comfortable.  
Clark could practically see the anger rolling off his friend, he wasn’t surprised, Arthur considered everything that swelled beneath the sea to be his responsibility, it wasn’t a shock that he’d be this upset about such a rare and beautiful creature being harmed.

After several minutes of tense silence from Arthur Clark stopped trying to get answers out of him. It didn’t take long after that they came across a clearing in the kelp. There Kelsig lay completely unresponsive.

“If the bullet had landed anywhere else beneath her exoskeleton she’d be paralyzed at least, probably dead,” the king of Atlantis said with a growl “she’s one of the last female members of her species and someone shot her”

Clark, still alarmed, confused, and above all wary of Arthur in his protective state asked softly “About that Arthur… do we know, well… do we know for certain that she was shot?”

Arthur looked at him with a disbelieving look on his face “Yes Clark _we do_.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

Clark nodded not oblivious to the obviously agitated state the king was in. “Do you any information on the type, or range of the bullet?”

Arthur looked at one of the guards examine the sleeping creature. “You!” He said with a commanding voice “What information do we have on the bullet?”

“Yes your majesty.” Responded the young Atlantean “It was rubber, built for a sniper, we couldn’t get much information from it, indistinct and no surface databases we have access to have any information on it.”

Clark could see the frustration flare up in his friend’s eye, it was not a look he was unfamiliar with and he found himself bracing for one of Arthur’s famous tantrums, but to his surprise, the king took a deep breath and looked into the man’s eyes. “Bring me any information you gather and have it brought to me, I’ll assign a unit to the case.” He said with steel in his voice.

“Arthur! You can’t send troops to the surface over this!” Clark felt ridiculous scolding him with giant bubbles coming out of his mouth but it needed to be said.

“And why not?” Arthur said haughtily.

“Because it could cause an international incident that’s why!”

“An innocent creature under the jurisdiction of Atlantis has been unnecessarily harmed by a surface dweller, likely enough by one of your military buffoons, _I_ am hardly the one causing an international incident.” Now Arthur has raised his voice, and was glaring at Clark, as if he’d been the one to harm the creature

“Gorlans are sacred to Atlantean culture, and because of your people’s pollution they’re nearly gone, now some psychopath practically tortured one of the last remaining ones, she gets a bullet in her spine!”

“A rubber bullet”

Arthur gives him another glare, “ _AND_?”

Clark steps forward “Arthur you can’t send a military unit to the surface without permission.”

Arthur scoffs “And what exactly am I supposed to do? Let this go? Are _you_ gonna figure out who did this?”

Clark tries to stop himself from grinning, maybe Superman wasn’t the brains of the Justice league, but dammit if Clark Kent didn’t love a mystery.

“Yeah actually, I am.”

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! Thank you so much for the feedback on the first chapter. Never be shy about commenting on fics, you have no idea how validating it is! This is a short chapter but I wanted to provide you beautiful people with the content you deserve.

Now _this_  was a city he could get behind. Clark smiled as he stepped off the subway. He closed his eyes as he felt the sun shining down on his dark brown hair. The glass skyscrapers shone around him. There were days still when he could barely contain how much he loved this place. Ma had been worried when he’d left, after all getting enough sun was vital to his health, but he doesn’t see why she’d been worried. He snorted, god, she made him sound like a plant.

In this place, in this moment, he was happy.Despite popular misconception, this wasn’t something he was prone to taking for granted. Not that it was rare, god no. Maybe when he’d first become Superman but now? Well right now, he was happy. He could practically feel his city’s energy, it’s soul around him. He looked at the people around him, a couple with a little girl, a group of teenagers laughingly heading home from school. He made his way to his building and, after a minute of fumbling with his keys he opened the door.

“Lois?”

When no one answered he put his bag on the couch and made his way over to the bedroom only to be greeted by his wife, his very clearly pissed off wife.

“What’s the matter honey?” He said, as she pulled the iron out of hair and gave him a sour look.

The only response she offered was an exasperated sigh. After what felt like several minutes of her staring angrily into the mirror she explodes into life.

“Perry’s making me go that Wayne thing tonight.” She said practically snarling. “I end up having to go every single time. I’m an investigative journalist, not some gossip column fan girl! This is not my job!”

“Woah, slow down. I thought Perry was sending that new girl?”

Not quite to his surprise she proceeded to turn her glare up at him “Well _someone_ threw a lizard into the middle of the city so now the newbies are all too scared to go.”

“You’ve always been the only one willing to go into Gotham, I thought you liked that?”

“Sure, I like being the one they go to on mass murders and corrupt politicians, but this? It was fun the first couple times but come on. I shouldn’t even have to go, no one in Metropolis even cares about Bruce Wayne, or his fiancé. Perry’s just trying to grow our Gotham readership.” She scoffed “As if that’s ever gonna happen.”

No one goes into Gotham, not the Feds, rarely the league, and only the bravest of journalists. At least that meant that the paper was willing to pay anyone who would very well. He grinned and grabbed her wrist.

“Why don’t I do it?”

“What?”

“Why don’t I go to Gotham.”

She looked skeptical.

“I’ll call Perry and let him know.”

“Clark… it’s the Wayne Gala, do you… do you even have anything to wear?”

“I’ll wear that one I wore to your sister’s wedding!”

“Oh, Ok…”

“What?” He said feigning offense.

“Nothing love, you’ll do great.”

He didn’t miss the smirk on her face but instead of offering one of his snarky retorts he returned “That is, I’ll go to Gotham if you look into something for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fyi my tumblr is @scottishwaitress if any of you wanna give it a look. It’s primarily fic updates and shitty headcanons etc


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry it’s been like, two weeks. This is another short chapter, I still kinda have no idea where this plot is going so don’t be surprised if I drop of the grid sometimes. If you feel like it I love your comments, and I do this mainly for fun but also to improve my writing so feel free to leave any constructive criticisms,(though ya know, complements are nice too, so leave those too) also I have a tumblr if you want to give it a look, @scottishwaitress, hope you enjoy!

Bruce Wayne. The white night of Gotham, legendary philanthropist, compulsive adopter, and the most eligible bachelor in America. Or, at least, that’s what he used to be. Selina Kyle was surprisingly tall, though you wouldn’t be able to see it next to her companion, who stood at at least 6’3 and was very likely as tall as Clark himself. Her long black hair fell down in waves and the soft curve of her stomach was made very noticeable in her red gown. Clark supposed that after they’d announced the pregnancy she was relieved to be able to dress normally again. Clark wasn’t able to stare at them for long over the absurdly bright flash of several dozen photographers taking their picture at once. 

At this moment Clark was very grateful for the advantages given to him by his Kryptonian heritage, that hopefully, were not available to anyone else at the gala, namely, X-Ray vision. He watched a telltale raven black head bob through the crowd while staring directly through a mob of distracted socialites. Clark smugly started to follow the teenager over to the corner of the room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne.”

The boy looked up from his phone with a start. “Oh, uh, hi.” The lanky boy said with a small frown, (why was everyone in this family so  _ tall?)  _ as if trying to sort out if he knew Clark from somewhere. 

“Clark Kent,” He said grinning. “Daily Planet.”

The boy was still frowning, but it was different now. For a second Clark could have sworn that there was something… angry, even sinister in it, but then the frown vanished and the signature blinding Wayne grin was on his face.

“Tim. This is your first gala I’m assuming?”

At that, Clark was a bit taken aback. “Yeah, how’d you know?” The boy, (well, not  _ really  _ a boy at second glance, he was at least 16 or 17,) gave him a slightly pitiful look and smiled. “No reason.” (Though, the look he threw at Clark’s jacket could have told a different story.)

“So… was there something you wanted to ask me? Normally I wouldn’t but you’re the first reporter to find my hiding spot back here.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. What details can you give me about the wedding?” Clark frantically flipped open his notebook.

Tim laughed, “Well, I mean, if Dad ever actually starts doing any of the planning I’ll give you a call. Selina’s taken charge a bit on that front, and she’s being very quiet about it. One might think she doesn’t trust us with secrets.” He said with a wink. 

“Any baby names you guys are liking so far?” God, he could see why Lois didn’t like these, he felt like teenager begging for gossip. His midwestern accent was suddenly very noticeable next to Tim and the rest of the Gotham elite’s regal way of speaking.

“Oh, a couple, though I don’t think anyone would be very happy with me if I told you, I’ll tell you this though, if the kid’s lucky Dad won’t have much to do with the name, you should have heard his ideas when Damian got his dog. I’m just glad he didn’t have a say in any of our names.” 

As Clark opened his mouth to ask more about the wedding he heard a voice from behind him.

“Ah, Timmy they’ve finally found your secret spot.” 

Clark whirled around to see a mountain dressed in black. The size of his massive muscles only beaten out by the size of his grin. And people thought Superman was an optimist.

The man held out his hand to Clark, grin widening, though he wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible. “Bruce Wayne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol yeah I know this is kind of a wired ending but I felt guilty for leaving you with nothing so... I made Selina pregnant because I feel like B just having a wife straight off the bat would kind of ruin the creepybats atmosphere, but I am confidently ignoring the audacity that was the canon batcat wedding so I wanted to include her. The next one will be longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been MIA for a while, I've honestly been feeling pretty uninspired with this lately but I'm back now and actually have a plan for where this is going to go so, yay! Hope you enjoy!

“Bruce Wayne.”  
Clark felt something tense up inside of him, though whether it was shock or an inherent dislike of the man in front of him he couldn’t tell. What he did know however was that he’d been staring at him for several seconds too long.  
“Sir?” The man, Bruce’s, grin turned quizzical, though no less blinding. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yes, yes, of course Mr. Wayne.” Clark felt his reporter’s instincts kick in. “This is a beautiful party,”  
“Thank you! I imagine it cost quite a bit of money.”  
Wayne’s famous charm was rolling off of him in waves, or maybe that was his cologne. Either way, Clark wanted to gag. Suddenly the son didn’t seem so obnoxious anymore. Luckily, the man was soon distracted by a waiter carrying a tray full of wine. He managed to get in a couple more questions before Bruce walked, or, rather, blundered away Clark turned to finish his interview with Timothy only to find that he’d disappeared. He sighed. Perry would have to make do with what he had, after all, how many people actually managed to get an interview with one of the Wayne kids?

Hours later he stumbled into his hotel room, slightly drunk and half crazy after failing to dodge several too many entitled socialites. He pulled out his phone, hoping that his enormous favor had been repaid. He smiled as he saw the voicemail his wife had left, Lois always texted the bad news.  
“I reached out to a couple of my sources Clark, the bullet is custom, no way to trace it back. My guy said it was apparently some sort of fancy alloy, he didn’t even recognize it. So, obviously, there’s no manufacturer to question, but one of them mentioned a friend in the east end. Kind of an expert on these types of things. It’ll be open at weird hours my source said the guy is kind of paranoid, so go early, or, you know, late. Address is 47 Berkeley Circuit. I gotta go, I’m meeting this sciencey guy for an interview in twenty minutes. Love you,” And then as almost an afterthought, “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Another hour later Clark found himself walking through one of the seediest neighborhoods he’d ever seen. Missing person posters were stapled just underneath strip club flyers on every telephone pole he could see. He’d changed out of his nice suit but still couldn’t help trying to avoid stepping, well anywhere. Every inch of the alley he was currently walking through was covered in something grey and unidentifiable. He stepped over one more puddle, almost missing it in the fog that seemed to hang over the city in perpetuity. As the door swung open that fog was quickly replaced by a cloud of cigarette smoke.  
“Hello?”  
The door swung closed with a bang and Clark came face to face with a short man who stunk of cheap liquor and, evidently, was very angry.  
“What?” The man said, narrowing his eyes. Clark pulled a copy of the bullet out of his shirt pocket. The man squinted and then grabbed it greedily from his hands.  
The man went into the back room and came back a few minutes later with the bullet in hand.  
“Where did you get this?”  
“I,” Clark choked, how was he supposed to explain himself out of this one? “I found it, um at a crime scene uptown.” Ok, not a lie, not really. He was doing ok so far.  
“I thought the other guys were in league, trying to scam me or something. Those bullets weren’t complete though, this one doesn’t even have scratch marks, Bats don’t miss little man and you’re trying to pass this off as genuine?”  
“Bats? Like the urban legend? They use guns, I thought they were supposed to be like, ancient gods or something.”  
“Huh, not a local conman then?”  
“I’m not a conman. I’m a reporter.”  
The man narrowed his eyes. “You’re a reporter, then this is what? A copy?”  
“Can you identify the bullet or not.”  
“Man that is not my area of expertise.”  
Clark let out a confused sigh. “Then what is your area of expertise exactly?” Had he seriously driven in the middle of the night with a raging hangover into the worst part of town just to meet up with some psycho with a back alley storefront?  
The man tensed up, “Are you really a reporter?”  
Clark pulled his ID badge out of his back pocket. “Clark Kent. Daily Planet.”  
The man didn’t break eye contact with him, instead his eyes lit up with excitement. He stood up and opened the door to the backroom and beckoned for Clark to follow. As he walked into the room the smell of mothballs and sweat hit his nose (sometimes, enhanced senses hurt rather than helped, highschool gym had been rough). But as soon as the fluorescent lights were switched on the whole conversation came together in his mind. The walls were covered corner to corner with missing posters and police warrants and filing cabinets filled to the brim. There was even one of those cork boards on the back wall with newspaper articles and mugshots connected by red yarn. 

And everywhere, bats.

“I was born in this city, you know, I watched it’s rises and falls. I watched his, or, well, it’s rise.”

“You’re area of expertise is an urban legend man, I think there’s been a mistake.”

The glare returned now. “I’ve been waiting a decade for real media coverage and I get some metropolis kid?” He isn’t a fucking urban legend.”

Clark had trouble stopping himself from laughing. “You’re trying to tell me that there’s a man dressing up as a bat and beating on criminals?”

“Not a man. They’re not human, at least, not the way we think of them.”

“What do you mean?” 

“There have been a ton of theories, ghosts, aliens, some sort of immortals, one woman I did some work with years ago swore that he was the god of death. But human, they are not.”

“They?” The idea that the urban legend was an alien was, intriguing, to say the least. And the man’s absolute conviction about his existence had honestly, quelled his initial disbelief at the subject.

“His… family, colleagues. In some circles they’re called his children, or his horsemen, or his captive souls.”

“How many are there?”

“We-”  
“Don’t know?”

The man took another drag of his cigarette, “Not for sure no, multiple, the first showed up decades ago,” The man beckoned him over to the corner of the room. “This, is the only picture we have of him, but I’ve spent years collecting eyewitness reports. He never ages, He’s been described as different ages but it isn’t linear whatsoever and in every sighting he’s still a child.”

“He doesn’t age?”

“No. And he isn’t the only one of Batman’s children. I’ve interviewed people who named a living shadow, a man in blue who could fly and moved like no human physically can, then there’s the scourge of crime alley.” Clark was led over to another wall that depicted dozens of pieces of wall graffiti. It differed picture to picture but in all of them there was one common theme, a smooth red face with haunting white eyes. “They call him the red hood, he’s everywhere in crime alley. Graffiti mostly, but if you find the right places, everyone has a story.”

“What places are those?”

“Orphanages, group homes, and street kid hubs. He protects kids, some people think he’s some kind of vengeful ghost.”

“And, if this is real, why don’t we know surely the police would know about it.”

The man hardly let Clark finish his sentence before going off. “It’s a coverup, that’s the one thing we can all agree on. Maybe all the way up to the federal level. But, who knows, it’s not like any of them would notice if the whole of Gotham got blown into space, hell I’d be surprised if any of them even looked at our crime statistics anymore. ”

He seemed to see the doubt re-entering Clark’s eyes as he immediately pulled a thick binder from one of the shelves. “Look, two years ago, these guys come in to film some true crime thing on the bats, a week into filming all press is canceled, the crew leaves their hotel in the course of a day and the studio never so much as mentions it again, no one does. Then earlier, the Gotham Museum announces a new exhibit exploring the history of the bats, and then one of the people working on it implied to a small tabloid that they have some sort of evidence of their existence, over the course of a night. Exhibit cancelled. And then this guy, tries to bring the story to the Gazette, story buried, the guy is fired.

“Do you have anyone else I could talk to, witnesses or something?”

The man looked reluctant for a moment, “If I’m going to bring this out, I need sources.”

He nodded and took out another binder, after a minute he pulled out five or so files and handed them to Clark. “Tell them Peter sent you.”  
And then, after a moment of silence he turned back and in little more than a whisper he said “Be careful son, Gotham gets angry when you try to uncover her secrets.”


End file.
